


How Did We Get Here?

by Dawninlatin



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, One Shot, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23822728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawninlatin/pseuds/Dawninlatin
Summary: When Feyre had looked in the mirror, she didn’t recognize the person staring back at her. The cheeks that had been full and rosy were hollow now, the skin paler than ever. The person’s ribs could be seen even through the thin, grey sweater hanging awkwardly off one shoulder. The hair, that had been brassy and shiny, was a dull, matte, brownish colour. Yet the worst of it all were the eyes. They used to be a striking blue, full of life and light and joy. The light was gone now, replaced by a never-ending nothingness.She had become a ghost.-Rhysand was so sick of being angry all the time. Anger was the only thing he really felt these days. Anger, and shame.He was ashamed of what had happened to him. Ashamed that he had let it go on for so long, that he couldn’t stop it. And he was angry, at everything, really.Angry because he was ashamed, angry because he couldn’t stop it from happening, angry because he was so lost. But most of all, he was angry at her.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	How Did We Get Here?

**Author's Note:**

> TW: This fic deals with heavy topics such as depression, suicide, abuse and rape/non-con.
> 
> Hello<3
> 
> As soon as I heard "Light of Love" by Florence + The Machine, I got the idea for this fic. I had originally decided to just put the idea away, thinking that it wouldn't become anything anyway, but then I started writing, and I couldn't stop, so here you go!
> 
> Take care of yourselves<3
> 
> Peace&Love<3  
> -Dawninlatin

Feyre had no idea what she was doing. Or why she was doing it. That was the default now. For three months, she had been wandering in some aimless slumber.

She didn’t know why she had stopped eating, or getting out of bed, or why she had stopped talking to people. She just couldn’t find herself to care anymore.

Even if she spent all her time in bed, she didn’t sleep. Couldn’t sleep. There were heavy bags under her eyes. Or at least there had been the last time she could stomach her own reflection. 

When Feyre had looked in the mirror, she didn’t recognize the person staring back at her. The cheeks that had been full and rosy were hollow now, the skin paler than ever. The person’s ribs could be seen even through the thin, grey sweater hanging awkwardly off one shoulder. The hair, that had been brassy and shiny, was a dull, matte, brownish colour. Yet the worst of it all were the eyes. They used to be a striking blue, full of life and light and joy. The light was gone now, replaced by a never-ending nothingness. 

She had become a ghost.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

She hadn’t been able to leave him until the third time she’d ended up in the ER. She had woken up with a bruised and beaten body, only faint memories of how the injuries got there. 

His eyes going dark, his hands around her neck, his fists hitting her face, her body slamming into the door, her hands around her head, her voice screaming for him to stop.

The third time it happened, she had decided it would be the last. Feyre knew she wouldn’t survive a fourth time. Even if he always apologized after. Always started crying, promising it would never happen again. That he just let his temper get the better of him, that he would change. Then he would buy her gifts. Disgustingly expensive jewelry she could barely look at. And as she forgave him, he would make love to her. He would do it so gently, kissing her with such tenderness, that she almost believed the lies he told her. 

She almost believed he would change, that things would get better. Almost believed it would be like before, when they had fallen in love. He had been so sweet back then, caring and protective. Now he was only controlling and possessive. 

A while after he had apologized, when Feyre had stopped being scared of her own shadow, had stopped jumping at every noise, or flinching whenever he raised his hand, it would happen again. He would come home, stressed from work, and have a little too much to drink. Then he would get angry. It was always the little things that made him angry, like a dirty plate in the sink, or that she hadn’t done the laundry that day. He would start yelling, then he would start hitting. Hours later Feyre would wake up in the ER, not knowing how she got there.

When she decided to leave him, she thought life would be like it was before. She left him because she wanted to _live_ after all. She thought life would be like it had been before he said that he didn’t want her to see her friends anymore. They were bad influence, he had said. Then he wanted her to quit art school. She would never make it as an artist anyway, and he made enough money to provide for them. You should take care of our home, do laundry, make dinner, he had said. So she had become the perfect housewife, losing herself in the process.

After she had left, life wasn’t like it had been before. She was finally _free_ to do what she wanted, to be what she wanted. The only problem was that she didn’t know what that was anymore. He had taken everything away from her, reducing her to nothingness. Reducing her to a ghost of who she used to be. 

She never painted anymore, never talked to anyone, never laughed, never smiled. She had simply stopped living.

Feyre wanted to hate him for it, but feeling hate would imply feeling anything at all, which she didn’t, at least most of the time.

Sometimes, she would wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, breath heaving, heart thundering, feeling terrified. Terrified that he would somehow find her, would hurt her again, would lock her up. 

She thought the nothingness that followed the fear was even worse. When she was afraid, she at least felt _something._ So when the nothingness came, Feyre certain that she would not fall asleep again, she would wander.

It was cold outside, and dark, the stars her only company as she would spend hours wandering alone, along the train tracks. Feyre didn’t know why she kept doing it, night after night. Maybe, some place deep inside her, she hoped.

Hoped that at the right moment, she would hear it coming, coming fast enough that it wouldn’t stop, not until it was too late. They wouldn’t even see her in the dark. Then the nothingness would end.

No one would miss her anyway. She hadn’t spoken to anyone but _him_ in years. Not her friends, not her sisters. She had no one.

Feyre knew these kind of thoughts, that would crawl from the darkest depths of her mind in the middle of the night, should have scared her, but they didn’t.

Nothing did anything anymore.

So all she could do was keep wandering, keep waiting, keep hoping, that the nothingness would finally end.

-

Rhysand was so sick of being angry all the time. Anger was the only thing he really felt these days. Anger, and shame. 

He was ashamed of what had happened to him. Ashamed that he had let it go on for so long, that he couldn’t stop it. And he was angry, at everything, really.

Angry because he was ashamed, angry because he couldn’t stop it from happening, angry because he was so _lost._ But most of all, he was angry at _her._

In the beginning, he had been enchanted by her. By her striking beauty. The way her body curved in all the right places, the way her fiery red hair lit up the dark club, the way her full lips whispered dirty, dirty things in his ear.

It had been exciting in the beginning. She felt dangerous, but Rhys liked that about her.

Then she had begun using him. Using his _body_ in ways he didn’t like. If he said no, she would laugh it off, telling him to stop being ridiculous, or she would get angry, movements hard and commanding, threatening to hurt the people he loved if he refused.

Rhys hated himself for letting it go on for so long. For three years of his life, she had used him, had reduced him to nothing but a body. Had done as she wanted, and taken, and taken, even if he had nothing left to give.

Some twisted part of him had even enjoyed it, if only just a little. He had moaned and groaned as she forced herself on him, as he was screaming inside. The shame of it all threatened to eat him alive.

No one knew what had happened. Rhys had just shown up on his cousin’s doorstep one day, after being away for years, his body full of small bruises and bite marks. He never gave an explanation to why he had been gone, or why he had stopped talking and laughing and smiling. 

He had actually debated telling someone, had even considered reporting it, but who would believe him? He was a grown man, who had been violated by his lover. It was his own fault, for letting it happen. 

Thoughts like these were what mostly fueled his anger. He knew, deep down, that nothing of this was his fault. He knew that he couldn’t have stopped it, and that she deserved to be punished. He had done nothing wrong.

Yet the destructive thinking, and the _shame_ , the horrible, horrible shame, never left him, and he hated himself for it.

Along with the shame and anger, came the nightmares. Some nights he would wake up, his heart beating so fast it hurt, unable to breathe, still feeling the weight of her body on top of his. It was on nights like that he would wander.

Just aimlessly walking and walking with the stars looking down on him. He found it surprisingly comforting. He didn’t have to hide anything from the stars. They saw the naked truth, saw the broken, lost man looking up at them, and still they didn’t run. They didn’t run the way he was sure his family would if they ever found out what had happened.

Rhys was walking this night as well. He had decided to follow the path along the train tracks, seeing where it would lead him. The only noise around him a train in the far, far distance. 

He let the darkness surround him like a blanket. Relished in the cold breeze calming his trembling body. He would probably walk until sunrise, knowing hat sleep would not come back to him. Not this night. 

Closing his eyes, he stepped further away from the tracks. The train was coming closer, fast approaching. Noise getting louder and louder.

Then something caught his attention. A small sound of movement. Maybe it was an animal? The sound came from right next to him.

Rhysand opened his eyes, and saw a young woman, illuminated by the moon. She looked so small, surrounded by night and darkness. She was standing in the middle of the tracks, head thrown back, eyes closed.

His heart caught in his throat when he realized she wasn’t going to move. The sound of the train thundering towards them was almost deafening now. And the woman was standing in the middle of its path, looking as if she had left this world already.

-

It would be over so fast.

Feyre could hear the roaring of the approaching train. She was standing in the middle of the tracks, waiting. It would all end so fast.

All she had to do was close her eyes, and wait, so that’s what she did.

She stood there, with her eyes closed, head tipped backwards, towards the moon, and the stars, and she felt her breathing calm, every broken bit of her disappearing. It would all be over soon. She wouldn’t have to live in nothingness anymore.

A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she wasn’t sad. She was peaceful. Ready. 

That tear was for the life that was lost. The life she could never get back. It was for all the good memories, all the smiles, all the joys in life. The train was so close now, the sound of it deafening. 

Feyre thought back on the 22 years she had got to spend in this world. It _had_ been a good life. At least before the end. She did have a family once. Did have people that cared about her and loved her. She did have purpose and passion. But that was something she would never get back.

She took one final breath, ready for it all to end. She could almost feel it now, the train. It would be over so soon. And then she wouldn’t have to feel nothing anymore.

Feyre was ready for death to claim her.

Then, as the train was about to hit, she felt a hand yanking her backwards before landing on a hard body, the train rushing past her.

She abruptly sat up, taking in her surroundings, before her eyes landed on the man beneath her. The one who had saved her. His eyes were searching her with a burning intensity. They were so blue they were almost violet. Dark circles marked his face too, but he was beautiful. The most beautiful man she had ever seen. Was he a god? Or maybe an angel? Some higher power must have made their paths cross at this exact moment, must have decided that this was not the night Feyre was going to die.

She had wanted to die.

Then it really hit her. Feyre had tried to end it all. She had wanted to die. But she wanted to _live_. She had left him because she had wanted to survive, to live, to get her life back.

A violent sob wracked through her as she was feeling for the first time in months. It was coming out all at once. She had felt nothing for so long, and now she was feeling everything. Sadness for all she’d lost, fear for almost ending it, anger for how she’d given up, hope for the future, _happiness_ for being alive. Feyre was alive, and she was free!

The stranger, her saviour, didn’t say anything as she let it all out. As she cried, and cried, and cried. He just sat there, next to her, in silence. Feyre found it comforting. At one point, he put his jacket around her shoulders.

When Feyre had calmed down a little, she managed to push out a quiet «thank you» to the stranger. Her voice was hoarse and it cracked slightly. Those two words were the first words she’d spoken in months.

The man gave her a sad smile in response. «Do you want me to call anyone?» His voice was just as hoarse as hers, laced with a sadness she knew all too well.

Feyre used a long time contemplating his question. Who did she have to call? She didn’t have anyone left. _He_ had made sure of that. 

No, that wasn’t true. He had made her _think_ she didn’t have anyone. Feyre felt herself get angry as the truth hit her, but she pushed it away for now, looking back at the stranger.

«My sisters, you can call my sisters.» Her voice was shaking as she said the words, more tears falling at the idea of seeing them again. Would they even want to see her?

The man sitting next to her nodded once, looking up at the sky. «I’m Rhysand, by the way.»

«I’m Feyre.»

-

**_2 years later_ ** ****

Feyre woke with a start, trying to find out where she was. _It was just a nightmare,_ she thought, trying to shake off the images of hands around her neck. Her heart was pounding, breath coming out in short gasps. 

It was just a nightmare.

Her heart calmed a little as she started to recognize her surroundings, finding a sense of calmness in the dark. Then she felt someone stir behind her, a hand beginning to stroke soothing circles on her lower back. _Rhys._

Feyre looked over her shoulder and met his eyes, full of concern, but also of love. She saw the question he wanted to ask, but he waited until she was ready, he always did.

When her breathing was steady, she laid back down, burying her face in Rhysand’s chest. He held her tightly, never stopped stroking her back. There was nowhere she felt safer than in his arms, surrounded by darkness and the smell of citrus, sea, and something purely _Rhys._

«Do you need to talk about it?» he whispered against her hair. Feyre only shook her head, confident that she would be able to fall back asleep. It could wait until tomorrow.

They had truly come a long way since the night they’d met. He had saved her when she had wanted to end it all, when it had become too much to bear. After that night, Feyre had slowly gotten her life back. She had spent countless hours crying in a therapist’s office, had spent countless days unable to get out of bed, unable to stop the bad thoughts. Yet she never stopped fighting, and Rhys, he was there with her every step of the way, as she had been for him.

Still, it had taken a long while for them to be able to be together like this. Rhys had his own demons to battle, and they had both needed to learn how to love themselves again, before they could love one another.

Feyre often thought back on that dark period of her life. It had been a living hell, but she’d survived, and she’d come out stronger than ever. There were still days where she stayed trapped in her own thoughts, unable to escape the heaviness, but there were also days where she laughed so hard her stomach hurt, days where she got lost in her paintings, days where she talked for hours with her sisters, their bond almost healed.

She had even gone back to school, determined to get a degree, and then begin teaching others how to channel feelings through art.

And then there was Rhys. The man currently tracing soothing patterns on her back, placing featherlight kisses in her hair. Rhys, who was so patient, and loving, and selfless, and kind, and funny, and-

He was her everything, and she loved him with every bone in her body.

Rhys made her _feel_.

Feyre was grateful for that night, two years ago. It had led her to Rhys, after all. But most importantly, it had made her realized how much she cherished life.

And she was intent to live it to the fullest, with Rhys by her side.

-

Rhys kept stroking Feyre’s back even after her breath had gone calm and even, her body relaxed. It wasn’t unusual that one of them woke up from a nightmare, but it happened less over time. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten here, but Rhys thanked whatever gods had led him to Feyre those two years ago. She was the light of his life.

They had both needed time, in the beginning, to heal. But she’d been there with him, as he’d been for her. Two lost souls finding their path together. 

The anger was gone now. Rhys had gone to therapy, and found that all the anger and shame had slowly but surely started to disappear. He would probably never fully heal, but it didn’t matter, because he had Feyre with him. 

It had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, but one night, many months ago, he had whispered the words to Feyre, had told her everything. She’d listened to all of it, and when he was done, she’d wiped away his tears, before pulling him into a tight embrace, telling him that she would always love him, no matter what.

He would always love her too.

There was nothing that made him more happy than waking up next to Feyre everyday. She was a hurricane, and he loved her for it.

There was no one who made him feel more safe, more loved. 

And as he lay there, with the love of his life in his arms, he truly knew it would all be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Comments are appreciated as always<3


End file.
